


after all this time i'm still into you

by valleyofthewind



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, and in love with mingyu, aren't we all, minghao is gay, other than that it's G all the way through, rated T for swearing and slight use of alcohol/drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyofthewind/pseuds/valleyofthewind
Summary: four times minghao almost confesses and the one time he does





	after all this time i'm still into you

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the ever-iconic paramore's still into you

_1\. Winter_

Minghao bites his nails. Something he hasn't done since he was like, seven years old _._ Yet here he is. Biting his nails and adjusting his beanie on his head for the nth time.

On top of that, it's a frosty January day and he's fucking _freezing_. Everything around him is covered in thick layers of white, sparkling in the sun. The oak tree Minghao's waiting below is completely stripped naked by now, the leaf-less branches stretching over his head. Only a handful of people are idiotic enough to be out in this weather. People walking their dogs solemnly, an old lady hobbling along in the snow and Minghao is distracting himself from his thoughts and trying to mitigate his hypothermia by playing _Doodle Jump_ on his phone.

 _Soon this'll all be slush_ , he thinks to himself, shivering. _Okay – distractions, distractions. Enough. Just do it. When he comes, just_ do _it. What could go wrong?_

 _Anything, really_ , his subconscious says.

“Fuck off,” he tells his own mind, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well, I guess I'll just leave,” a voice behind him says.

Minghao turns around. “Seriously, _you_ can fuck off.”

“Sorry I'm late,” Mingyu says.

“You're always late,” Minghao says.

Mingyu laughs. He's holding a take-away mug.

“Matcha latte?” he questions.

“Close.” Mingyu's casual, warm outfit makes Minghao's heart _do_ things to him. Not good. “Chai latte. Isn't it funny how _chai_ means tea in Hindi and _latte_ is milk in Italian? Milk tea.”

Being in love with your best friend isn't easy – especially since life isn't a goddamn romantic fictional story. _Especially_ when your best friend is Kim Mingyu, who loves caffeinated beverages and spouting random facts and winter mornings and holds practically the entire universe in the pupils of his eyes.

Minghao decides to humour him. “So when people say _chai tea_ they're basically saying tea tea?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mingyu says. He laughs again, and stretches his arms high above his head, exposing a peek of skin by his external oblique. “Let's get a move on. It's freezing.”

“Oh, _now_ you realise?” Minghao mutters. But he's staring at the way Mingyu's jacket is bunching up as he lowers his arms again, how he pockets his hands and one of his gloves get caught on the jacket pocket zip, how whenever his feet hit the ground a soft crunching noise pleases Minghao's ears. “McDonalds or Sally's for lunch?”

“Sally's.” Mingyu folds his arms – a sign that he's made a choice and that he will stick to it. Mingyu, he's stubborn like that. He probably even has arguments prepared in case Minghao goes against him.

“We went there last time,” Minghao says, adding a slight whinge to his voice.

“Which is better to support; a multinational millionaire business or a nice, family-owned restaurant café with reasonable prices? We're going to Sally's and that's it.” _There they are,_ Minghao thinks, and Mingyu grins at him the way he does. “I'll even buy you dessert, Hao, my treat. Got paid yesterday.”

Minghao forces every inch of his body to not-blush. “I want a McFlurry.”

Mingyu hits his shoulder. “Don't be a wanker.”

 _It is_ not _easy._ American rom-coms are a _scam_.

Mingyu's starts chatting about a documentary he saw on National Geographic the other day, explaining the dangers of the shark fin trade, how an estimated 100 million sharks are killed every year, how awful it is that they're used and then thrown back– And, okay, honestly, Minghao is only half-listening, even if it's an important topic. His mind has done that usual thing where it decides to wander into dangerous zones of thinking about an _actual relationship_. He imagines being able to reach out and hold Mingyu's hand, how it would feel in his, how they'd stop and Mingyu would lean in to kiss him gently all over his face and smile and squeeze his cheek and Minghao would push him slightly with a grin on his face because he _couldn't help it_ and people walking past would stare but be wouldn't give a shit because– He stops himself with a quick shake of his head. He never lets himself dig too deep, go too far, as it only leaves him feeling more hopeless.

Mingyu had once taught him flower language, something he'd known since his boy scouts days, along with morse code and sign language. Right now, Minghao sees metaphorical red tulips growing from beneath his feet (meaning: _I declare my love_ ).

“Hm?” Mingyu tilts his head to the side, abruptly cutting off the discussion he's having (with himself).

Minghao returns the look. “Hm, hm?”

“You shook your head,” Mingyu says. Minghao can't believe he noticed. And then he tries – keyword being tries – to not to dig too deep into it.

“Oh, nothing,” Minghao says.

Mingyu frowns. “Hm.”

“Stop hm-ing me.”

“Maybe when you stop being a hm-able person.”

“Hm-able person?”

“Who wants ice cream in this weather?” Mingyu gestures at the grey clouds, the snow, the dead plants. “I mean – I love winter. But ice cream in winter? Weird.”

“Ice cream never lets you down. You can eat it whenever,” Minghao says, watching Mingyu walk away slightly to throw his now empty take-away mug into a bin on the side of the path. “Like hot chocolate. You can drink it even in 33 degrees, you feel?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No.”

They continue to walk in silence for a while. Not awkward silence. One of those nice silences, where you appreciate the beauty of the sereneness and other sounds surrounding you. Where you appreciate each other's company without saying so.

Minghao breaks the beauty of the comfortable silence first. “You said Sally's. Why are we walking towards the tubes stop's McDonald's?”

There's this small smile on his face. An appreciating one, Minghao thinks.“To get your McFlurry, dumbass.”

_It. Is. Not. Easy._

 

_2\. Winter_

Minghao wakes up to the alarm on his phone.

He groans and leans over to turn it off, squinting his eyes at the glint of sun streaming through his window. He then realises that it's both 6 a.m. and a Saturday, which means that it can't be his alarm unless he forgot to turn it off for the weekend. Which is unlikely. Which means that someone is calling him. Which is really fucking annoying.

He fumbles to find his glasses for a few seconds.

 _[Four missed calls from_ Onix _]_

The next time Mingyu calls, Minghao answers with a, “Fuck off.”

“Hao, I need help,” Mingyu says, evident panic in his voice. “ _I need help._ ”

“What?” Minghao rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Go back to sleep. It's like, six.”

There's a minute of obscure noises as Mingyu scrambles with the phone, squealing a few times. It sounds like he's throwing things around. Or battling a monster. “Hao, let me come over.”

“What?” He sits up in his bed. “Why?”

“ _Now_ ,” Mingyu says.

“Did I ask when?” Minghao mutters.

“I'll be there in ten,” Mingyu says.

There's really no point in arguing when it comes to a person like Kim Mingyu. Even if he's just overreacting – as per usual – Minghao gives in and sighs with a, “Fine.”

Before hanging up, Mingyu says with an undoubtably calmer voice, “Can you make me some coffee?”

“I hate you,” Minghao answers.

When he walks into Minghao and Junhui's flat, Mingyu immediately peels his socks off. It's always the first thing he does. Mingyu, he's one of those anti-socks-indoors people. The last thing he does in the morning – before getting his shoes on – is putting socks on. He really hates them. The moment he walks into his own dorm on campus or a house or apartment belonging to someone he knows relatively well, he takes his shoes off along with his socks. Minghao once asked why he hates socks so much to which he replied, without skipping a beat: _They're like condoms for feet. Isn't that weird, Hao? What are we stopping our feet from feeling?_

Feet condoms? Who even says that?

Minghao is a firm believer that romance is dead.

“I am feeling severely traumatised right now,” Mingyu says. There he is, standing in their apartment, barefoot. Wearing Bread and Butter's uniform, armed with his name-tag and apron and a white t-shirt showing off his broad shoulders and his dishevelled hair. He really must be set out to kill Minghao any day soon. “I need to use your shower.” Nice, romantic guys, who aren't straight or not interested in him don't exist.

He needs to start boycotting boys he'll never have a chance with.

“A shower?” Minghao leans against the wall, staring at him. “A _shower?_ ”

“Sorry it's early.” There's not a hint of anything even close to apologetic in his voice. “There was a, um, crisis at the dorms.”

Minghao hands him a cup of instant coffee. “Crisis?”

“And I have a job, unlike some,” Mingyu continues, taking the mug and blatantly ignoring him. “I need to be at the café in 45 minutes, so can we please wrap this lovely conversation up–”

“What was the crisis?”

Mingyu walks past him. “Towels in the bottom left drawer? Thanks, _darling_.” He's already en route to the bathroom, but Minghao puts his arm out in front of the doorframe and stops him. Two can play it at the Stubborn-Game.

“Tell me why I'm awake at the ass crack of dawn just so that you can have a shower, _sweetheart._ ”

“Nothing,” Mingyu says. “Look, my boss will be pissed if–”

When Mingyu acts like this, there's only one to make him confess; suggesting something he will obviously deny which then forces him to tell the truth. He always ends up telling the truth to protect his dignity. After Minghao's years of experience, this technique has seemed to work the most. So he interrupts Mingyu with a, “Oh, you had a one-night-stand last night and afterwards you didn't–”

He watches as Mingyu blushes from head to toe. _Seriously._ That guy, he can go _red_. It must be an art. “What the fuck, no?” His face is a flower in bloom. “That's– Not even– Hao, you're disgusting.” He scrunches his face. “There was a _spider_ in the dorm showers. _Jesus._ ”

Minghao raises a single eyebrow. “A spider? Seriously?”

“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say? Yeah, a spider. It was pretty big, too.” Mingyu demonstrates the size by using his thumb and index finger. “I couldn't shower with that _thing_ in there.” He must see Minghao's _Really?_ look, because he holds up his fingers again. “This is like, 5 centimetres!”

Junhui walks into the corridor. “We need to buy new chairs.” He stops when he sees Mingyu, cracking a grin. “Measuring Hao's dick, are we?”

Minghao and Junhui have been living together since freshman year of college. How you put up with a person like Wen Junhui for over three years? There's a simple answer for that: _You don't._

“Fuck off,” Minghao says, at the same time as Mingyu snorts. “Why do we even need to buy new chairs?”

Junhui shrugs. “I don't know. Instinct.”

Junhui also happens to be the only person who knows about Minghao's issues surrounding Mingyu. Minghao never actually told him, but he figured it out. Junhui, he knows a lot of things. He's the type of person who _seriously_ believes in soulmates and says things like, “ _Go outside, breathe, listen to the cicadas”_ when Minghao says he needs advice over something. He's the type of person who believes in first love, yet only ever has fuck-buddies. He spends his life lecturing him and their friends about compassion and the importance of feelings and studying human nature. The type of person who, at first impression, seems stupid, but is actually very intelligent. The type of person you will either find buried with their nose in a book or completely off his face making out with two strangers at the same time. Yeah. That's Junhui.

Minghao sighs. “Why are you awake, Jun?”

Junhui's still smiling. “I have a job, too, unlike some.”

“Bullshit. Oven Baked does morning shifts now?”

Another grin. “'Course.”

“Whatever. You'll have to battle with Mingyu over who gets to use the shower, then.”

Junhui steps forward. “And why exactly are you using _our_ shower?”

“Spider,” Minghao and Mingyu say simultaneously. “ _Jinx!_ ”

“Jinx?” Junhui rolls his eyes. “Are you ten?”

“Yeah,” they say, in unison. _“Jinx. Jinx again!”_ Mingyu is laughing, and Junhui is staring at them, and yellow pansies (meaning: _thinking of you_ ) are growing out of Mingyu's eyes; hyacinths (meaning: _your loveliness charms me_ ) from his forehead; red carnations (meaning: _my heart aches for you_ ) under his feet as he inches closer towards the bathroom.

Love is trite, hackneyed. Romance is dead and he hates boys and boys hate him back.

“I'm in love with you,” Mingyu says. Not really. But that's what Minghao hears, and he shakes his head at himself. He's steadily growing hopeless. It's harder and harder to stop himself from going too deep, from confessing things that he doesn't want to confess.

Daises are growing from Mingyu's fingertips.

(Meaning: _I love you truly.)_

“What was that?”

“Shaking your head again.” Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “Why'd you do that? Weird.”

Minghao smiles. “The world is a head-shakeable place, Gyu.”

A single white rose appears, around the area of Mingyu's heart. It is growing, ripping through his skin and tearing out of the flesh, stretching his uniform, planting itself over his entire torso.

(Meaning: _I cannot._ )

 

_3\. Spring_

“You were the one who thought reindeers were a mythical creature, Hao.”

“ _You_ asked me if Egypt is in Asia.”

“It was like, 4 a.m., and I was drunk.” Mingyu is whinging.

“In that case, I was drunk when I thought reindeers were a mythical creature.”

“So you were drunk for eight years of your life?”

Minghao grins. “Yes.”

Mingyu shoves his shoulder slightly, and Minghao overreacts by pushing himself down from the sofa to the floor. He lets out a gaily laugh, pulling Mingyu's arm so that they're both on the floor. They wrestle around like that for a few minutes, rolling over each other and playfully tugging at each other's arms and shoulders and Mingyu's smiling brighter than the early May sun peeking through the window.

He rolls around another time, and Minghao's head hits the top of the coffee table, and he lets out a groan. Upon opening his eyes and looking down he realises what an awkward position they have landed in.

Minghao on top of Mingyu, his arms planted next to his body and his knee between his legs.

_This is it. This is God punishing me for choosing Modern Languages over Religious Studies in high school._

They stare at each other like that for a few seconds.

Mingyu is a work of art.

He's turned completely red, and his eyes are sparkling. Maybe that's Minghao's imagination. Even his skin is radiating sunshine. _Is that possible?_ With Mingyu, it feels like anything is possible. It even feels like centuries pass in those few awkward seconds in that awkward position.

Then he rolls off and clutches his head where it was hit, not even bothering apologising for what happened. Instead complaining about half getting a concussion. The magic has successfully been broken.

Mingyu sits up, smiling, his cheeks dusted a slight crimson.

Minghao has never seen someone so beautiful before.

He decides that the cancellation of loving boys who don't love him back is momentarily on pause.

 

_4\. Summer_

Junhui thinks Minghao has been boring recently, which is why he agrees to go to the party. Even though he'd rather be at home wallowing in self-pity. College is almost out for the summer, which is the perfect time of year for parties. End-of-term parties. Early birthday parties before people go away for the summer. Parties, parties, parties. _What are we even celebrating?_ Minghao thinks to himself as he brushes his teeth with his finger because he forgot to buy a new toothbrush after cleaning his shoes with his former one.

The conversation went a little something like:

“Please.” Although Minghao hadn't looked up from his desk, he had almost heard Junhui's pout.

“At least make yourself useful and go wash the bedsheets.”

“ _Wash_ the bedsheets? On a _Friday_ night? In June? Dude, do you even hear yourself? You've been so boring these last few days, or like, weeks, can't you just come with me to one party?” He had pouted again, most likely. “Please?”

Minghao had agreed after Junhui wouldn't stop pestering him for half an hour, and now he's spitting the toothpaste out and looking at himself in the mirror. He had decided to skip the glasses, putting on contact lenses instead. It makes him feel naked.

Junhui calls from the corridor, “Mingyu's on his way.”

 _Ah._ The last thing on earth Minghao wanted to know. Junhui continues, “So, make sure you look good enough to eat–”

“ _Thanks_ , Jun.” Minghao tries not to grit his teeth. How long has it been since he realised he was enamoured by his best friend? It must be months. Months of lying in bed at night and turning sanguine at the very thought of simply _holding hands_ , like a primary school student; months of wondering and thinking and wondering some more. Months of helplessness and months of love and hate.

He looks to the mirror and sees a wild rose growing out of his mouth.

(Meaning: _pleasure and pain._ )

Mingyu shows up at their apartment and takes his shoes and socks off.

“We're leaving now,” Junhui says. “No need to take anything off.”

“I felt trapped,” Mingyu says.

Minghao sees Mingyu, and his lungs fail on him. He's wearing a completely normal Mingyu-outfit – a black t-shirt and loose jeans. But there's something different about him. _The way he's standing? The way he's staring back at Minghao? What?_ Minghao gulps the heart in his throat down. “'Sup, Onix.”

Onix is an inside joke. They'd been talking to a group of people at a party once, and somehow they had started discussing which Pokémon everyone was most alike. Mingyu had been officially crowed as the group's Onix. Minghao, _Clefairy._ Not really as cool. Then again, it was years ago, and he wasn't really the same person as he is now.

“Oh?” Mingyu has a grin rested over his entire face. “Thought you weren't coming out of your hole today?"

Junhui chips in, “He asked me to wash the bedsheets.”

Minghao shrugs. “Okay, there are times you want to go out and get drunk, and there are times you want to be a responsible 20-year-old who fucking washes bedsheets.”

Mingyu laughs at their exchange, and he's still laughing when they're walking out of the door. Then he starts talking to Minghao about a documentary on the meat industry and agriculture that he watched and how he's going to try eating only vegetarian food for a month. “Did you know that like, a cup of beans give a million times more protein than a steak? Hao, it's revolutionary.”

Minghao just smiles at him and says, “Good luck surviving without _gong bao chicken_ for a month.”

Mingyu folds his arms. “They probably make that with tofu, too.”

A folding of the arms – there's really not point in arguing. He changes the subject. Minghao lets him.

Soon enough, they arrive at the frat house where the party is being held. Minghao hates frat parties with a passion, but when they're inside he recognises a few people from a few different classes there and Mingyu doesn't leave his side for a minute. Minghao tries to not think about it. His mind wanders several times.

Mingyu gets a few drinks into his system. Minghao doesn't touch a drop of alcohol.

It's not as if he's a saint. He's had drinks at parties before (obviously). But tonight, he doesn't feel up to it. It could be that he's too scared he'd admit things in a state like that. He honestly doesn't know. Mingyu doesn't ask about it _._

Somehow, a couple of hours into the night, they end up in a game of truth or dare. _Seriously?_ Minghao finds himself thinking. “Truth or dare? You're joking.”

Mingyu giggles. “It's like we never left high school.” Even though the music is annoyingly loud, he starts humming that song, _High School Never Ends,_ and Minghao somehow hears it, and, with every fibre of his being, he tries not to stare.

There's a few awkward truths, a few funny dares. The usual. Make-out with him, kiss her, who would you bang in this room, take a tequila shot, have you ever kissed someone of the same sex (Minghao rolls his eyes at this), lick the wall, who's the prettiest girl here, give him a lap dance, would you ever do anal. The regular bizarreness, the horniness. What did he expect?

Eventually, they get around to Minghao. He chooses truth. Someone – Seungkwan, he thinks – shouts _pussy._ He doesn't care.

He gets the most basic question: “Who do you like?”

“You're kidding,” Minghao says.

“Nope.”

He hates himself for the way that he thinks about Mingyu. Mingyu, sitting next to him, now looking over at him curiously. He doesn't just _like_ Mingyu. Every cell in his body is in _love_ with him. A boy; a human of the male species. He's known it for a while now but, for some reason, thinking about it almost makes him cry. He's in love with Mingyu. _His Mingyu._ Which shouldn't suck. Yet it does.

There are white roses growing everywhere in the room. _I cannot, I cannot, I cannot._

Minghao glances over at Mingyu for a second. Then he says, “Nope, not really.”

The girl who asked him the question raises her eyebrows. “You don't like _anyone_?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Really?” 

Someone else calls out, “What is it? Are you interested?” to the girl, and everyone _ooohs_ and she turns to the guy and snaps back, “No, it just seemed unrealistic.”

And they move on to the next person.

And. That. Was. That.

 

(Later, Mingyu asks Minghao, with a slightly slurred voice, if he _really_ doesn't like anyone.

Minghao feels like he's going to throw up, even though he doesn't have a single millilitre of alcohol in him. He repeats himself: _no, not really, not at the moment._ He pretends that Mingyu's face is falling, when it actually looks pretty neutral. Mingyu, he has a good poker face.

Mingyu says, “Well, you know, I'll always wingman you if you need it.” He pauses, searching Minghao's face. “You're my best bro, Hao.” He smiles softly.

Minghao does this thing where he fakes a smile. He feels as if he'll cry again. What's up with that?

Junhui, who's been standing by them the whole time without Minghao realising, whispers, “Ouch. That's got to hurt.”

He hates it when Junhui's right.)

 

_+1. Autumn_

“Got ciggs?” Minghao asks.

Mingyu holds his hand up and waves with a packet of Camel Yellows. Who the hell smokes _Camel Yellows_? But Minghao still grins. “Who knew you could be a bad boy?” 

“I'm bad at everything,” Mingyu says.

They laugh together, and Mingyu puts a cigarette in his mouth whilst trying to keep one hand on the wheel. Minghao says, “Is that so?” Mingyu leans over to the side, and it feels as if he's close that Minghao can feel his breath against his cheek, can hear his pulse. _Scary._

Minghao hesitates, before bringing up his lighter and watching the tip of the cigarette catch fire. He watches Mingyu inhale, and exhale. He realises that he must look stupid, staring at the boy next to him breathing out smoke as if he born to do it. He shakes another cigarette out of the packet, and lights it quickly. They've done this before, but it almost feels different. It feels wrong. Everything feels different nowadays.

They're both silent for a while. The beauty of a silence.

In between long drags, Minghao asks, “Where did you get these?” Minghao knows him. And he knows that Mingyu would never buy them with his _own_ money.

“A guy at work,” Mingyu says flippantly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hm?” Minghao looks back at him. “A guy at work? He likes you?”

Mingyu is quiet for a long time. “Maybe.”

“Oh. He really does like you?”

“Why'd you ask?” 

Even though he keeps his eyes on the road, Minghao thinks Mingyu notices he's staring at him. “Nothing.” In reality – Minghao's fists are clenching at the fact that someone else likes Mingyu, his eyebrows furrowed. Someone. Else. Mingyu maybe even likes the guy back. He wants to stand at the top of a mountain and scream _Fuck_ until his lungs run out of air.

Then Mingyu pulls over and stops the car. Then he gets out, ditches the cigarette on the ground, steps on it repeatedly. He walks around the car, over to the pavement.

All Minghao does is _look_ at him. Then the cogs in his brain start churning again. “Hey– What? Gyu? What the fuck?” They've stopped on the side of a road, next to a few apartment blocks. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He gets out and closes the door behind them. “That was dangerous– What would've happened if someone turned aro–” He rakes a stressed hand through his hair. He walks up to Mingyu, who has his back facing him. “Hey, hey. What is it?” He grabs Mingyu by the arm. He tries to emolliate the stressed way he's speaking, forcing himself to be calmer. “Talk to me. Gyu, what's up?”

Mingyu turns around. There's an entire bouquet of expressions on his face. “I can't do this.”

Minghao freezes. “What?” He tries to think, but his mind won't help him. It has turned to stone, just like his entire body. _Great._ The only time it decides to not wonder about things. “Can't do what? Gyu, what is it?”

Mingyu looks like he's going to cry and laugh at the same time. “ _Fuck._ I can't keep dancing around you and you acting like nothing is up. _Things are up._ ” There are people walking past them. They do that thing where they pretend to not care and just walk past with their heads down, but they're actually pondering over what two boys could _possibly_ be arguing about on a fine September afternoon like this.

“What do you mean– I– Have I done anything?”

Mingyu drags a hand down his face. It's unlike him to do something like that. “No, Hao– You haven't. It's just me. Whatever. Just– Look, just forget it.”

Minghao's entire body is quaking. There's no way he's going to forget anything. And he also realises that there has never been a more perfect opportunity to say it. Never. Not in a park, not at his apartment, not at a party, not at Mingyu's dorm. _Never._

So, with his trembling hands and sweaty forehead, looking like he just ran a marathon, Minghao holds his entire heart in his hands and says, “Mingyu, I'm in love with you.” He prays that his voice didn't crack, or wobble. He just says it. Big deal.

The face Mingyu makes is worth all the pain he's felt over the past year.

It's like every flower in the world just blossomed between them.

“Oh.” That's all Mingyu says. His eyes turn soft, and Minghao is seriously in love ( _in love!_ ) with him. “ _Oh._ ”

Minghao whispers, “Yeah.”

Now Mingyu is blushing. If it was 1503, Leonardo da Vinci would've wanted to paint him instead of the Mona Lisa. “I– I didn't know.”

“You said you were dancing around me. What d'you mean?”

“I said that because I didn't know–” Mingyu breathes in, and out, “–that you like me. That you're in love with me. Like, _I didn't know._ ”

Minghao has to ask. “And you like me back? Or– or not– I mean– I'm not expecting–” Xu Minghao, reduced to a stuttering mess. “Or to even love me, let alone like me. Not love as in friendship but as in, well, real love. Like Junhui first love. Like seriously.” Minghao bites his nails. “Sorry.”

But Mingyu is just grinning. “Guess.”

“Huh?” It's Minghao's turn to blush. “Guess? Guess what?”

“Guess if I'm in love with you.” It's such a Mingyu thing to say.

“Uh–”

That's when he leans over and kisses Minghao. _Honest. To. God._ Mingyu is kissing him. And he's kissing back. And Minghao's head is still spinning as Mingyu leans back, small smile on his face, and says, “Guess.”

In a daze, Minghao manages to stupidly say, “Uh, you like me?”

Mingyu says, “Hao, I've been fucking crazy over you since the day we met.”

 _Crazy over you._ Mingyu – crazy over Minghao. It's weirder than any _Weird But True_ fact that has ever come out of Mingyu's mouth.

And Minghao breathes out a sigh of relief.

“You know all those times I shook my head?” he says. Mingyu nods. “I had to stop myself from imagining us, you know. In a relationship.” It sounds lame, saying it out loud.

“Hao,” Mingyu says. “Are you 20 or 11?”

“10 and three quarters,” Minghao says. He puts on a slightly high-pitched voice, “So does that mean we're like, boyfriend and boyfriend?”

They're both grinning at each other now.

“I hate you.” Mingyu closes off any space between them.

“Daisy,” Minghao says, and Mingyu's entire face lights up.

“You remember that? Flower language?”

“I remember everything you've ever told me.”

“Collective noun for 'toads'?”

“A knot of toads.”

Mingyu laughs. “How sexy.” He cups Minghao's face. His hands are so warm. Minghao is in love with this moment; he wants to keep it stored in his pocket and take it out and hold it whenever he feels cold. “Well, apple blossom.”

Minghao frowns. “Apple blossom? Did you teach me that?”

“I don't know.” Mingyu is hugging him. He says, quietly, into Minghao's ear, “It means, _I prefer you before all_.”

Then he picks Minghao up, lifting him from the ground by the waist, and twirls him around and around. “Daisy, daisy, daisy,” he's saying, and Minghao is laughing and squealing and holding Mingyu tightly around the neck and it feels as though decades pass before his feet hit the pavement again.

To the other people walking down the street, they must look crazy.

Mingyu puts his arm around Minghao's shoulders and says, to no one in particular, “I'm in love with this man!”

A woman walking past with a stroller smiles at them. “How lovely.”

Minghao looks up at Mingyu, and his heart just about bursts.

Because Mingyu is already looking at him.

And he starts tapping on Minghao's shoulder.

“Hm?”

“I asked if I can kiss you again in morse code.”

Fuck, yeah. It _is_ lovely.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i literally scraped this together over a day cause i'm bored and sick and i jsut love gyuhao so much i wanted to write them whilst wallowing in my own misery next to a thousand empty kleenex packets
> 
> i'm also currently writing something for the seoksoon fic fest on the 1st of june. it's around 27k of pure seoksoon!! so if you like my writing for whatever reason stay tuned for that!
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/greeneryrains)!!! thank you for reading <3


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